


I dreamed of a Wolf

by winterrose



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Headcanon, Pre-Robert's Rebellion, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterrose/pseuds/winterrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the North knew about Brandon Stark’s reputation, but no one knew that during the entire time he shared the bed with Barbrey Ryswell, he never lay down with another woman.<br/>No one knew. Not even her. Not even him.<br/>Brandon Stark would never admit this to himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I dreamed of a Wolf

  Her father took her hands in his.  
  That could not be good.  
  "Brandon Stark will be our guest tonight, my daughter"  
  Barbrey waited.  
  Lord Rodrik looked confused, perhaps even embarrassed. He avoided looking into her eyes as if what he was about to ask her was not worthy. In fact, it was not. Barbrey knew the high pretensions of her father, she knew what he wanted to ask, and she might have said it herself and spare the old man, but Barbrey chose to stay in silence. If she had a duty to her house, her Lord Rodrik had one duty to her.  
  "Father?"  
  He looked back at her.  
  "Make him... - He tightened his jaw, stopping for a moment- Make him love you, give him whatever it takes." He finished involving his daughter’s shoulders as gently as he could.  
  Barbrey consented with a nod. “Whatever it takes.”  
  She knew what that meant, she was not a child after all.  
  "You understand that a marriage with a Stark will put our house in the best position possible." He said trying to justify what he has just asked her to do.  
  Barbrey raised her head proudly "Yes."  
  Her father leaned over to kiss her forehead. Lord Rodrik had never been that kind before. Barbey knew he was right. There was nothing compared to a marriage to Brandon Stark, heir to Winterfell. Nothing. Even her sister’s betrothal to Roose Bolton was no more than a simple union compared to a Stark marriage.  
  "Father" She looked at him right away. "The gods gave you no male heir, but I'll honor you. Whatever it takes."

   A daughter married to a Bolton, the other to a Stark, her father couldn’t ask for anything else.

 

   #

 

  Brandon's presence had become customary at the Rills. Whenever he took a stroll through the lands of Ryswell, Brandon stayed in her castle. His gallant courtesy couldn’t hide his fierce temper and the taste for blood. Before she had even known Brandon, Barbrey was accustomed to flirting, but all her suitors were boring.  
  All but Brandon.  
  They played a cunning war of words and gestures, which sometimes made them break into laughter lying on the lawn or in bed, exhausted.

 

#

 

  The cool breeze of morning blew through the open the window and slowly froze between the drops of sweat on her warm skin. Yet some of them insisted on running down her column, like long fingers sending chills up and down her spine. Barbrey let the cold air of northern nights fill her lungs, while her mind got lost in the dark curls of Brandon Stark, lying beside her, without his strength.  
  The ever hungry wolf finally slept. The thought brought a smile to her lips, red from his kisses. Brandon’s arms kept her body almost trapped with his. A careless hand layed on her hip while the other one was still on her breast.  
  Even in his deep sleep, Brandon’s lightest touch was steady and enough to leave her blushing. Brandon always said how much he liked to see her cheeks red and burning, more from desire than from modesty.  
  He was the only man she had lain with and if the gods were good, he would be the only man to share her bed. Barbrey caressed Brandon’s soft curls of Brandon.

 “I might not be the only woman to share your bed”  
  She knew about his appetites, yes she did. He mumbled something incoherent, turning in bed, closer to her. Not even sleeping Brandon Stark seemed peaceful. Maybe that was what she liked the most in him. It was something greater than his personality, his attitudes. It was a dream. A dream that one day he truly loved her with all his heart. She was not naive to believe in declarations of love sung under the moonlight, and Barbrey knew Brandon far too much to know that he was certainly not the man who does this sort of thing.  
  One day he put a rose in her hair when they spent an afternoon riding. It was more than she dared to hope. However, at times, his caresses were gentle, as if he really cared about her. That's what Barbrey wanted to believe, that she was more than warmth to his bed. He always treated with courtesy, with his gallant charm, but it was in those moments, as brief as a blink, that she cherished the hope there were feelings in his heart for her.  
  Their legs were so intertwined that she wasn’t able to get up, not even if she wanted to, but Barbrey did not. If she could, she would lock him in their chambers. They didn’t need anything else except the heat of their bodies in a battle of nails, kisses and wishes, and the sound of his voice speaking nonsense in her ear, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.  
  Every moment with him was too precious to be wasted in vain. Brandon freed her form her monotonous life, he made her blood run burning inside the veins. She wept in the silence of her room alone, waiting for him, but Barbrey couldn’t admit that she missed more than just a lover. There was something about Brandon Stark. He made her laugh with his arrogant pose, mounted on a horse as gray as silver, returning to her arms. She never had to wait more than a month. Barbrey was sure he wanted her. Not love, but desire.  
  It was enough for her, and perhaps enough for a future marriage.  
  She would play with all the weapons she had in hand, all of them.  
  If she could not have his heart she would have him screaming her name.

#

  All the North knew about Brandon Stark’s reputation, but no one knew that during the entire time he shared the bed with Barbrey Ryswell, he never lay down with another woman.  
  No one knew. Not even her. Not even him.  
  Brandon Stark would never admit this to himself.

#

  "I deserve a husband as much as Catelyn Tully!" She cried out with all the strength she had. If he had a wild temper, now it was time for him to taste hers, and not in a pleasant way.  
  "How can you accept that? How?”  
  She asked, her body taken by a stupor of rage that made her tremble inside the robe. Brandon sat in bed staring at her with those dangerous gray eyes. She ignored the warning in them. A wolf was waiting to attack.  
  "Maester Walys said! Gods! I thought Starks were not guided by the advice of gray mices!"  
  Her father always said she had a sharp mind and a sharper tongue. Barbrey knew she had gone too far, but that did not matter. She wanted to laugh of all, Brandon Stark married to a Southerner girl? His words still echoed in her head “I'm getting married to Catelyn Tully,” five minutes ago he was still inside her. “The Maester suggested that.” She had laughed curling up in the sleeping robe.  
  _The Maester. Damn all these cowardly rats._ Barbrey had cursed in silence. She wanted to laugh again. Everything she had ever wanted had been taken away from her, thrown into the fire. She had to laugh at her own tragedy. Maybe it could make it more bearable. All she had struggled to have was torn by a damn Tully. She had risked everything and now there was nothing but shards. That if one day there was something between them. She shouldn’t feel that way, after all, there was no arrangement for them. But that was not the point.  
  Lost in her rage, Barbrey did not see the wild fire crossing Brandon’s eyes nor when he stood up, too fast for his weight. Barbrey only felt the cold and rough stone scratching her face and Brandon’s body pushing hers against the wall.  
  "I do not follow orders from anyone.” he said with an authoritative voice.  
  She didn’t dare to answer.  
  "Do not be jealous, my lady, I will continue to come here."  
  He kissed her cheek and loosened the grip of his body against hers, just enough for her to turn around and face him.  
  "I'm sure will, Brandon" She replied coldly.

 

#

 

  Only after a fortnight, Barbrey’s flame of rage waned. It would be better for her if that hate still burned fiercely inside her heart, what took its place was an unwanted truth that she wanted a mask no mattered what. What she had with Brandon was more than a game of interest. The situation had escaped her control long ago. All she wanted was a wedding to Stark but now, all she wanted was Brandon.  
  _My maidenhead wasn’t the only thing he took from me._

_  
_

#

 

  Avoiding him was just as impossible as getting in a haystack on fire without getting burned. Barbrey knew she wouldn’t gain anything from that, except maybe trouble.                                                                                                                                                                                   

 Lord Stark would never go back on his word. There was no chance or hope, and she was fully aware of that, then why she still agreed to meet him?   

 Brandon didn’t try to hide their tours from her father.

 "My poor father. I dishonor him. Everything would be different if he had not asked me to ..."

 

#

 

  "Won't you tell me how your little bride look like?" She asked casually, walking through the modest Godswood of her castle.

 

  "Well, she is pretty, red hair." He was enjoying himself, what man would not want to be in his situation?

 

  "They say that Tully women smell like fish." She replied, teasing him with her audacity.

 

  She knew he liked it.

 

  "I felt nothing, but next time I'll get closer. She's only twelve, but in a few years .... “ He smirked.

 

  "If you think a Southerner will be able to sate your appetite ..." She looked away, her voice sounded more bitter than daring.

 

  Brandon grabbed her by the waist, his hands sliding down her bodice.

 

  "That's why I have my northern"

 

#

 

 

  "I do not want your presence here"  
   If a marriage to Brandon Stark was impossible why would she lose her precious time and beauty with him? “There are other Starks.” That's what her father had told her after slapping her and calling her a whore.  
  _A Stark. I want to be a Stark. That’s what I want._ Barbrey told herself.  
  Brandon’s younger brother, Ned Stark was still available. From what he spoke of his brother, Barbrey wasn’t very interested in him. But he was a Stark. It would be a political marriage. And if Ned even without the charm of his brother, had half of his ability, Barbrey was given by more than satisfied.

  Cold as ice, but still a Stark.

  A Stark but not Brandon.

  "I thought we had already gone through this" He said, adjusting the saddle.  
  "Brandon." She looked at him, fighting her tears. "I do not want a part of you, I do not want the night without the day. If I can’t have you all, I don’t want to have anything."  
  She couldn't go back.  
  "It ends here."  
  Brandon looked at her right in the eyes. A flurry of indecipherable thoughts passed through his mind, while she waited for another fight. But his answer was nothing like she expected.  
  "As you wish." He turned around and mounted his horse, leaving her stunned.  
  "That's it?" Barbrey asked incredulously.  
  Luckyly he was out of her reach or she would have tried to slap him. His just raised his eyebrows as if his reaction was what she should be expecting. Barbrey clenched her fists.  
  "I don’t mean anything to you." Barbrey choked on a bitter laugh. "I was just another one."  
Brandon did not answer.  
  "Get out of here." She ordered to that cold faced man.

 

#

 

  No answer came to her mind, her lucidity had left her and everything seemed to revolve around his touch. His warm lips caressed her neck, while his hands were busy unlacing her bodice, slowly. She closed her eyes, feeling the familiar sensation of his touch. One of Brandon’s hands found a secret way underneath the fabric, to fondle the soft skin of her back.  
  She gasped, tangling her fingers in the curls of his hair, bringing his face closer to hers until their lips finally met. He pulled her closer, embracing her body with his arms. Brandon laid her easily on the furs of her bed and climbed on top of her. She could feel his weight upon her body.  
  Barbrey had forgotten how strong he was.  
  If lord Rodrik found out he was there she would be punished, but the Gods were good to Barbrey, at least this time. Her father was away, he went to a meeting with lord Dustin or something like that.  
  She couldn’t care less.  
  They were alone and that was all that mattered to her.  
  The kiss they shared started shrinking, not by her desire, but by his. She opened her eyes, and the face she saw wasn’t Brandon’s. That wasn’t the fierce, arrogant and handsome man she loved. Brandon looked like a wolf pup. Could he be scared? He rolled onto his side, leaving her full of questions.  
  "Brandon ..." she whispered in a worried tone. Barbrey felt he lusted for her and Brandon never denied fire.  
  He slid his fingers down her cheek, trying to memorize all the lines of her face, the curve of her mouth, the arched eyebrows, her chin. She looked at him innocently, without saying a word, her hand ran up his chest, barely touching him like a gentle breeze, until she found his handsome face. His beard tickling under her fingertips.  
  Brandon held her hand tenderly, taking it to his lips to a sweet kiss.  
  "I don’t want to marry her."  
  "Brandon ..." Her voice broke.  
  Nothing she said could console him, the only things he could offer was the warmth of her embrace. She cupped his face closer to her chest. Brandon didn’t try to fight. He merely let himself be carried away by her, laying his head meekly over her bosoms. Brandon wrapped her arms around her waist; she had never seen him like that before.  
  The two stayed there alone, regretting the choices others made for them.  
  There was nothing more beautiful and sad than him cradling in her arms, denying the truth that the day he would be the mighty Lord Stark and she the wife of another man who wasn’t him had come.  
  Barbrey stroked his hair tenderly one last time.


End file.
